


I'll Have The Time Of My Life (With You)

by Marsali



Series: Marsali's Soulmate AUs [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: I don't regret anything, M/M, Pining, Some angst, Soulmate AU, dwarven stuff because i need more of that, i blame taylor swift, kissy time, you heard correctly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3746218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsali/pseuds/Marsali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SOULMATE AU He imagined a dwarf, usually. Someone he could take in his arms, tuck their head under his chin and breathe in the smell of their hair. Or burrow his nose in the side of their neck, almost hearing the thud-thud-thudding of their heartbeat. He thought of a strong frame, someone to be protected by as well as protecting them. He wished for laughter, he wished for lust, but most of all he wished for closeness and being the owner of the aching heart of someone who had fallen incurably in love. ---------- More Cadash love, y'all</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Have The Time Of My Life (With You)

**Author's Note:**

> I may have listened to "Long Live" by Taylor Swift while writing this ...

_“The search for your soulmate ends with the sound of a hello, and a familiar feeling like you’ve said hello once before.”_

_— soulmates part 1 // Jenn Satsune_

 

Renly remembered when he first found out about the words on his right arm. He couldn’t recall a time when he didn’t have them, but he never paid them much attention before he was able to read. Actually, they were the first things he chose to read for himself after the lessons his mother had given him. She’d wondered why he hadn’t simply asked her if he was so curious about them. He’d merely frowned and replied “But they are _my_ words.” And that had been that. 

Renly was a possessive dwarf. Always had been. His toys had been his toys alone and his mother had been _his_ mother. There was no inclination in him to share any of that. Of course, as he grew older, he learned to be nicer and more considerate towards others, but the words on his arm were different. Because they represented the person that would be his. Made only for him. Perfect for him. As someone who never had much in the way of family the thought alone made his heart beat faster and his throat go tight, whenever he allowed himself to think of this person when he lay in bed at night. 

He imagined a dwarf, usually. Someone he could take in his arms, tuck their head under his chin and breathe in the smell of their hair. Or burrow his nose in the side of their neck, almost hearing the thud-thud-thudding of their heartbeat. He thought of a strong frame, someone to be protected by as well as protecting them. He wished for laughter, he wished for lust, but most of all he wished for closeness and being the owner of the aching heart of someone who had fallen incurably in love. 

It was the one big dream he allowed himself. Dreaming big was not something you normally did as a Carta dwarf. You delivered results for whatever smuggling business was at hand and if you were lucky you didn’t get killed by one of the bosses. Not much romance in that. But how could he not let himself dream and believe if the words on his hands were so idiotically romantic?

“’Good, you’re finally here?’ By the maker’s hairy balls, Cadash. Could your words be any more syrupy?” is what his best friend at the time, Emmeric, had told him, when he was twenty and had drunkenly declared he wanted them to show each other their words. 

“I’ll have you know, my words are perfect. Much better than ‘What the fuck you doing here’. I don’t think you get to judge me at all” he’d replied with self-righteous indignation. No slander would come upon his soulmate’s first words to him. 

“Ha! At least mine are ree … ream … realistic. I can see it in front of me eyes, my boy.” Em was a year younger than Renly, but insisted he was at least twenty years worth wiser, which was why he had developed the annoying habit of benevolently calling him his boy. Renly did not much care for it, but was too drunk to be bothered right then. 

“I’ll be in the middle of breaking into someone’s house, or warehouse and they are going to demand answers and I’ll be robbing them blind and snatching up my soulmate all in one go. It’s called efficiency.”

“We’ll see about that when they shoot you.” His drink was empty. How mean. 

Emmeric slapped a hand on his own cheek and rubbed his face vigorously, as if to wake himself up a little. “How do you suppose it’ll go for you then, bruv? Think they’ll stand in front of you and be all like ‘I’ve waited for you my whole entire itty-bitty life. Take me right this instant and make love to me while the sun sets above our fluttering hearts’?”

“Shut your mouth.” had been Renly’s very eloquent reply to that while Emmeric laughed at him until he choked on his own spit. Served the bugger right. 

Because that was exactly how Renly pictured it. He even liked the bit with the fluttering hearts. And Em knew it, the bastard. He’d never experienced that but he would be lying if he didn’t enjoy the thought of it. If he ever met Varric Tethras he would punch the man in the face for writing so many damn books about soulmates. After asking for an autograph, of course. 

A view minutes after that, Emmeric had collapsed on the bench and had started snoring loudly. Renly had closed his eyes and thought of warm embraces and kisses that clung to your skin forever. 

*

As it turned out, he did not punch Varric the first time he met him. He did ask for that autograph though, once he had gotten his hands on another copy of his favorite book. Varric had laughed in his face, said something about the Herald of Andraste being a regular idiot like the rest of them. Renly wasn’t certain why that had ever been in question in the first place, but alright. 

The whole business with the rifts and the breach was disconcerting and Renly wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve it at all. Surely some thieving and smuggling wasn’t punishable by having to almost die every day? At least the company was good. He’d warmed up even to Cassandra, who he hadn’t been very fond of at the start. There had been too much violence against his person if you asked him.

But they all bonded. Him, Cassandra, Solas and Varric. Bonded over killing bandits and templars and the odd druffalo. 

“All I’m saying is, your aim could be better.” said Varric while scooting closer to the fire they had lit in their camp in the Hinterlands. 

“There is nothing wrong with my aim” Renly grumbled while doing the same. 

“You hit that druffalo on accident while you actually wanted to kill a templar. How is that even possible?”

“How are _you_ even possible” the red headed dwarf muttered under his breath and Cassandra snorted with her back turned to them. 

“I heard that, you twat. I never miss with Bianca.” He stroked his crossbow in a frankly disturbing fashion, all the while making a dreamy face. 

“It’s a crossbow. Anybody can use a crossbow. It’s not like it’s hard.” Why was it that he only ever made friends who belittled him at every turn? 

“That is a lie and you will take it back” Varric demanded and pressed Bianca to his chest. 

“I can use a crossbow” said Solas who had been sorting through some of the herbs they had gathered. 

“So can I” Cassandra supplied with a smug grin and Varric threw his hands in the air while Renly burst into laughter and the corner of Solas’ mouth curled up a tiny fraction.

“Fine. Be that way. See if I tag along next time.” 

He liked them all a lot. The longer he spent time with them, the more he liked them. 

Gradually, they became a family of sorts which Renly wouldn’t admit if his life depended on it. Or at least … at no point in the immediate future he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t do for them to know that he was clingy as well as possessive. Not that they were aware of that part of his personality, either. Which just proved his point. 

It was far too soon to feel so attached to them already. There was so much he didn’t know about them. He didn’t even know what their words were. Until he did, he would keep his mouth shut and not declare that he thought of Cassandra like the unruly little sister he had always wanted. Or that Varric felt like an older brother of sorts. And Solas … what would he even be? The weird uncle nobody wanted to talk to at family gatherings? He should probably never mention that ever. At all. 

*

Later he found out that Cassandra’s whole arm was covered in a poem, which was why she almost never rolled up her sleeves. When she first talked about it she delicately stroked the words on her skin and smiled the smallest of smiles. 

Varric’s words said “But you would?” which didn’t tell him much and Varric wasn’t very forthcoming about it. “She was a friend; we never did anything about it. Her … affections lay elsewhere. And I’m not into humans.” Renly wondered when Varric had become such an awful liar. 

Solas, for his part, had no name at all, nor did he seem to care.

*

“Good, you’re finally here.“

It was not the first time he had ever heard these words spoken to him. His boss in the Carta had said it on several occasions, almost giving Renly a heart attack the first time he did it, and a few strangers had uttered them as well. But never before had they positively resonated within him and given him a feeling of familiarity and rightness. 

Yes, the time had finally come and thank Andraste for that. He was finally here and finally saw the one person in the world who was destined to mean more to him than breathing and living combined.

At first, when he heard the words spoken to him his whole body froze at once which wasn’t a very good thing as there was a rift that needed to be closed and a metric fuckton of demons that demanded slaying. He performed his duty in a daze, whirring and jumping and making pincushions out of his foes with his arrows until they were all dead and his hand burned with the aftershocks of closing the rift. 

When it was over he turned to the stranger and let his gaze wander from his perfectly coiffed hair down to his polished boots. 

Nowhere in all of Thedas would anyone be able to mistake him for a dwarf. 

Unless they were a giant, because everyone was a dwarf to a giant, but that wasn’t really relevant right then, so … 

It was then that all of Renly’s fantasies seemed to readjust themselves in front of his inner eye. 

It was him who would be tucked under a chin and him who would press his ear against the chest of this man, listening to his heart beat. He was human and all too often that meant Renly would be treated with suspicion and indifference, sometimes even disgust. There would, very probably, be no equality between them if there would ever come to be anything between them at all. 

He stared at the stranger, handsome and perfect and magnificent as he was and listened to his voice. Every word seemed to hammer itself into Renly’s head, forever to be remembered by him. “How does that work exactly?” 

Huh? Oh, the rift thing. 

The stranger laughed. “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and - boom - rift closes.” Was it possible to be attracted to a person’s diction? It had to be, because the blood in Renly’s ears was roaring and there was definitely a feeling akin to fluttering in his chest. Varric had been right about that part it seemed. 

“Who are you?” he asked and immediately cursed himself for such a generic question. Did he really want those words to be the first he ever spoke to the man? And how awful would it be if those words were etched into his skin? If you were someone who relished in other people’s company, it would be possible that you heard these words every other day. Oh, Maker.

But the stranger … didn’t pause. Didn’t smile or gape or even widen his eyes a bit. He carried on without a beat of hesitation and still Renly’s heart found the time to sink into his stomach. 

“I’m getting ahead of myself again I see? Dorian of house Pavus. Most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

“Another Tevinter. Be cautious with this one.”

Renly had never been so happy for Cassandra’s inquisitive - ha, inquisitive - questions and brash personality before. He couldn’t have uttered another word to save his life. 

Because, apparently, while Dorian (Dorian, Dorian, Dorian) was his soulmate, he probably wasn’t his. 

And that hurt in a way no torture ever would. 

*

Vivienne only showed him her mark after he had brought her the heart of a white wyvern. 

Renly once listened to Cole muttering “Sad and sobbing, wondering why can’t I have one, is there no one there for me?” and his heart broke a little, when he realized Cole wasn’t talking about anybody but himself.

*

So they defeated Alexius, destroyed Haven a little and moved into Skyhold. And he became Inquisitor, which was weird and uncalled for. 

But he would do it, because he desperately needed something to occupy his mind and what would be more occupying than having the fate of the world rest upon his shoulders? Also it would mean that he would see Dorian most every day, which he liked because he was, apparently, a masochist who enjoyed wrapping a chain of thorns around his heart and tugging on it whenever he laid eyes upon the mage. 

It would all be much easier if Dorian wasn’t so damn charming and if Renly didn’t just _like_ him so much. He looked forward to their talks and relished every minute they spent together. He even liked the fighting and that was just daft, because who ever liked fighting with the object of their affection? No one in their right mind, that’s who. 

“That is not how you pronounce that word” Renly insisted for what felt the tenth time and gritted his teeth together. 

“I have pronounced it like that my whole life” Dorian replied with equal fervor. 

“So you must be right? What kind of logic is that, oh great scholar of Skyhold?” Verbal sparring was what Josephine liked to call it. Renly would rather compare it to little boys rolling around and slapping each other with open hands. “And it’s a dwarven word. Might I remind you that I am a dwarf?”

Dorian sniffed. “I noticed, yes. But you are a surface dwarf, so …”

“What does that mean ‘you noticed’?” Renly demanded irrationally mad about the comment. 

Dorian groaned attractively, because all he did was attractive, thank you very much. “Just that I looked upon you and thought to myself: ‘Ah, yes. A dwarf. Never would have seen that coming’. And then life went on, as it does.” 

Never seen it coming? “What do you mean by that?”

“You, my dear Inquisitor, are like a three year old. So many w-questions. I simply meant that I had pictured you … differently.” His sharp gaze lost its usual focus and he seemed to be lost in thought all of a sudden. 

Renly knitted his brows together. Something was not right. Renly had soon realized that Dorian’s mind was surrounded by fortified walls that no one could easily break down. He admired such strength, in a way, but he also wanted there to be some sort of door at least, that would let him in. 

“Why picture me at all?” he asked quietly, drawing Dorian out of his reverie. 

He shot him a quick smile, the skin around his eyes not crinkling at all, which made the smile seem bland and insincere. “One has to picture the Herald of Andraste in some way, yes?” He clucked his tongue and pointed to the open tome lying on the desk between them. “But let us get back to work, shall we. Why would …”

Renly didn’t listen, however. Because he was reasonably sure that it had always been known to everyone that the Herald of Andraste was a dwarf. 

*

He never saw Leliana’s, Josephine’s or Cullen’s marks. He only knew the following things: 

Leliana sent ravens to the Hero of Ferelden every few days. And when she did, she smiled.

After the debacle at the Winter Palace, no one was in the mood for celebration. But he caught Josephine composing a letter in her office, blushing madly and giggling for all it was worth only a few days later. 

And on the battlements, he saw Cullen bump into one of the mages who had just left the mage tower, spectacularly fall on his arse and then turn vermillion when the mage helped him up with a charming grin and dusted him off with a few pats of her hands.

*

They learned how to fight together. How to watch each other’s backs and how to protect each other’s blind spots. It wasn’t long until Renly dragged Dorian along for almost every quest, leaving Solas at Skyhold to tend to his research. 

Renly had been dejected in the face of the idea of never being equal to Dorian, but he needn’t have worried. 

He protected Dorian and Dorian him. 

In that respect, everything was as he had dreamed it. They were unequal only in one regard - Renly had given Dorian his heart. But he hadn’t received Dorian’s heart in return. He felt hollow and oddly lopsided because of it. How was it that feeling too much left him with less than he had before all of it had happened?

When the topic of words came up between Dorian and Varric, Renly didn’t participate in the conversation, but listened so intently, he felt his ears might come off. 

“Is it so different in Tevinter?” asked Varric. “From the stories I heard your people don’t put much stock into the whole business at all. Almost like the qunari.” 

The qunari burned off their words when they came of age. It was a ritual of sorts that was supposed to show their devotion to the qun. Renly shuddered at the thought. 

“We certainly aren’t as barbaric about it. But you are right, in a way, at least where the upper levels of society are concerned. Love is for the poor. Marriage happens to ensure a strong bloodline. As words would only get in the way of that, we are encouraged to keep them covered at all times, to never let anybody see them. It wouldn’t do to become the subject of blackmail, simply because a servant caught a glimpse of your soulmate’s first words to you.” 

He didn’t sound better about it. In fact, he sounded like he was reciting a passage from a particularly boring book. 

“But you know what they say, right?” Varric pressed on. 

“Of course I do. I’ve simply … elected to ignore them.” 

Renly’s spine snapped up straight and he whirled around, facing the other dwarf and mage. 

Varric lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t seem particularly surprised about his reaction. Which might have had something to do with the fact that Renly had confided in him a few weeks ago. Damn the bastard for not letting things rest. 

“What about your soulmate, huh? What if you met them? Would you never say a word about it to them?” he positively spat and stood up, for once towering over Dorian who was still seated on the ground. 

“Probably. If I thought it for the best.” 

Renly felt his eyes widen and starred at the mage. Dorian’s face was impassive, his head tilted in order to meet Renly’s gaze. He almost seemed unbothered by the whole exchange and yet …

“Best for whom?” Renly whispered. “For the one who knows you to be his soulmate, but has to live with the belief that he isn’t yours? For the one who has to look at you each day, _wants_ to look at you each second of each day, but can’t do anything _but_ look because he’s not allowed? Is it best for the person whose heart dances every time you so much as smile at him only to crumple seconds later, because it knows it belongs to you, but will never be acknowledged as yours?” 

He felt his eyes burn but he did not stop. He wasn’t finished yet. If he was going to do this, he would do it right and be done with it. 

“Is it best for the person whose fingers itch to touch you, who wants to love you with all his fucking being but can’t, because you _elected to ignore_ him?” He shook his head and grimaced with the pain that wanted to shake his whole body. “’Cause it’s not best. Not for them. And I don’t see how it would be best for you, either.” 

He turned around and headed to the tent he shared with Dorian, hoping the mage would wait a little until he followed. He glanced over his shoulder before he ducked under the flaps. 

What he saw were Dorian’s wide eyes, shiny with emotion or maybe even tears for all he knew. What he definitely knew was he had put a crack into those walls of his. He could see that. And it might have been a tiny crack. But that was always how it started. Every great fortress only cracked a little at the start before it crumpled to the ground.

*

There was a big scar where Bull’s mark should have been. It didn’t seem to bother him at all and he was happy enough to lead his life and seek his pleasures wherever he wanted. Renly, who still thought it sad, sometimes could not help but envy him for his freedom. Bull could love who he wanted. Renly could only love Dorian. 

Blackwall’s mark was faded and that was a whole different kind of tragedy. Renly didn’t press him about it and Blackwall didn’t tell. But in silent moments he saw the Warden absentmindedly squeeze his arm more often than not. It would be hard, almost impossible, Renly mused, to get over the death of your soulmate. He would rather have Dorian alive and distant, than dead and not at all. 

Sera’s mark said “Do you want to smack that guard over there with a snowball?” which seemed appropriate and perfect to him. When she started running around with one of the barmaids, pummeling Cullen’s soldiers with seemingly all the snow there was to be found and actively started a sort of battle between half of Skyhold, Renly could not help but smile. And put some snow down the back of Dorian’s collar, of course.

*

“Inquisitor?”

Renly’s head jerked up from his work on the desk and he looked into Dorian’s grey eyes. 

“Has knocking gone out of fashion, then?” he teased and put down his quill. He was supposed to sign the official contract they had with Frederic, the frankly terrifying draconologist they had run into in the Western Approach. He still wasn’t sure if it had been the right decision to take him on - he had battled _and_ killed a high dragon because of that man, for fuck’s sake - but what could you do?

“Terribly out of fashion, I fear. It is so last season.” 

He came a few steps closer and finally settled in the chair Renly had put in front of his desk last night, when a meeting with Cullen had tuned endless. And by endless he meant endlessly entertaining, because Cullen had asked him of all people for tips to woo his mage. He was debating whether he could persuade Varric to write some of this friend fiction his pirate friend from his Kirkwall stories seemed so enamored with. 

“Is this just a friendshippy kind of visit or do you need something?” Renly asked Dorian curiously. 

Dorian stroked his mustache with his right thumb and index finger. Then he sighed and promptly sprang up. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean you should leave” Renly said hastily. He didn’t want him to go, dammit. “Is it your burns? I thought they had healed them.” The high dragon had scorched Dorian’s back rather badly. Renly had almost had a heart attack, certain that that would be it for Dorian. Luckily they’d had plenty of potions with them and were able to patch the mage up until they made it back to camp. 

“The burns, the burns. No, it isn’t those cursed burns, thank you very much” Dorian practically yelled and Renly’s head jerked back in surprise. 

“Uhm, alright. Is it because we had to fight that dragon at all? Because I know you didn’t want to place those lures but I was kind of caught up in Bull’s enthusiasm about it and …”

“Oh, shut up, would you. I had the time of my life fighting that blighted dragon with you and you know it.” He spun around and started pacing up and down in front of Renly’s desk. 

What? Had he … What? Suddenly he only seemed to hear the humming of his heart beat. Everything else seemed to be swaddled in cotton. His vision was limited to Dorian’s agitated form only. What did he mean by that? How was he supposed to answer?

Dorian seemed to be only further irritated by his silence and turned to him, mouth already opened for what promised to be another scathing remark. But then he faltered. His brows drew together and then his shoulders slumped. 

“But you don’t. Know it, I mean. I never. I never gave you any indication that I …” He looked tired all of a sudden. There were lines on his face that betrayed the fact that he was not as young as he often seemed to be. Slowly he came back to the desk, tugged up his right sleeve and revealed a red band wrapped around his arm. Renly’s breath hitched. When he removed the last layer that separated his skin from Renly’s gaze, the dwarf wasn’t sure whether he rather wanted to rage, cry or yell it from the rooftops. Because there they were. 

_Who are you?_

Hi heart fluttered. His breath stopped. And then he sighed a jittery laugh before he closed his eyes. 

“Such common words. I hated them for the better part of my life. During all my time in Tevinter. Every time someone asked me my name I had hope that they were, well, _you_. Only to be disappointed. I learned not to hope. And when I _did_ find you, I didn’t know what to do with that.” He sounded resigned and hurt. 

Renly didn’t want him to sound so dejected. This was a good moment. This was … fuck, this was all he had wanted from the first time they had spoken to each other. The need to sooth the hurt in Dorian’s voice and to lift the almost visible weight off his shoulders became too much to bear and he stood up from his chair. He headed to his mage, his Dorian, all the while rolling up the sleeve of his tunic. 

A small, wounded sound made its way across Dorian’s lips when he saw the words on Renly’s skin. “So, it is not only me.” 

“Of course it isn’t. Have you forgotten my impassioned speech in camp that one time?” Renly cocked his head and tried to catch Dorian’s gaze. The mage laughed quietly and a little sparkle lit his eyes from inside. 

“I haven’t, no. But there was no way to be absolutely sure.”

“You could have asked” Renly said gently, knowing that the same was true for him as well. They were both idiots. “I didn’t ask you, because I assumed that, that …”

“Yes, I know. And I had my suspicions, but I was too much of a coward. In Tevinter it is all about image. What kind of image does it paint for the Inquisitor to find his soulmate in me of all people? I’m part of an empire that is hated by most.” Dorian sighed deeply and then slowly lifted Renly’s bare arm to his lips. The kiss tingled and clung to his skin. Renly wished it would burn there forever. 

“And I was afraid to let myself … want this. Have this.” He still appeared afraid. 

“You said something about a blackmail?” Renly gently probed and Dorian snorted miserably. 

“Yes. One of the slaves of a rival house found out about my mark for his master. He threatened my father, promised he would tell anyone and everyone about the words on my arm.”

Renly frowned. “But how could they blackmail you with the information?” 

“When nobody knows what the words on your arm are, you can always pretend that the person you are supposed to marry for their influence is your soulmate. They wouldn’t know any better, would they? It is a political game. Father killed him, of course.” Dorian said it dismissively, but it was obvious the encounter had left an impression. “The mark was a nuisance to me. It meant nothing. That is … Until I came to know you better.” He laid a hand on Renly’s shoulder. “Suddenly it meant so much that I was afraid of it. Afraid to allow myself to have this.” 

“You can have it, though. You can have me. You already do, anyway.” Renly was tired of subterfuge and games. He needed to be as honest as he could be right now. 

And his honesty was rewarded when Dorian swooped down and kissed him with a need and fervor that outmatched anyone who had ever kissed Renly before. He moaned almost instantly with the surprise and feeling of it. By the maker, it felt as if his very bones were melting. As if his world realigned itself to snugly fit Dorian into it, clinging to him for as long as the mage would allow it. Renly put a hand against the mage’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb and letting the other fingers of his hand touch the hair on Dorian’s neck. Dorian sighed again while their lips kept meeting, tasting and getting to know each other. They were saying things during this kiss they were yet too afraid to say out loud. _I want you. I need you. Stay with me. I love you, please._

The strength seemed to go out of Dorian’s body and he suddenly sank to his knees and burrowed his face in Renly’s chest. His breath was labored and heavy, but the tension had seeped out of his shoulders and he pressed his whole body against the dwarf’s. 

Renly smiled slightly, placed a kiss on Dorian’s head and breathed in the scent of his hair. 

It seemed his dreams hadn’t been so different from reality after all.


End file.
